Saving Grace
by Artemis Rex
Summary: Grace Mathews loves her older brother, even if he gets on her nerves. When Two-Bit slides into alcoholism and depression, Grace is desperate to save him. She has her own problems, including a romance with neighborhood bad boy Tim Shepard and a difficult friendship with Darry Curtis that may be more than it seems on the surface. Can Grace save Two-Bit ... or does she need saving?
1. Chapter 1

In Which Two-Bit Rumbles

Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders or "Nowhere Man" by the Beatles.

xxxxx

_". . . Doesn't have a point of view/knows not where he's going to . . ."_

It was one of those Indian summer days so muggy and oppressive you could almost wring moisture out of thin air. An early morning torrential downpour, followed by a wave of scalding heat, didn't make it any more bearable.

Sixteen-year-old Grace laid on her stomach in the middle of St. Louis Street. The heat had turned her strawberry blonde hair into a frizzy nimbus, and strands were plastered with sweat to her cheeks and neck. She blinked stinging sweat from her eyes, the already hot asphalt baking her belly and thighs.

Grace was not the victim of a brutal beating by the rival gang, the Socials, although her often-absent older brother would probably beat the tar out of her if he caught her. Tension between the two groups was high and any greaser caught alone was fair game for the rich kids, a girl or not. Her brother instructed her to stay with her friends, to go nowhere alone and to walk to and from school with him when he was available - which wasn't all that often.

She stared through a battered camera, focusing down the street, which was both swathed in the haze rising up from the steaming pavement and gilded by the rising sun. This was the way she wanted to see her neighborhood. The shutter clicked rapidly as she adjusted the aperture and the shutter speed. After a few moments, the mist dissipated and the fleeting, fragile quality Grace wanted to capture was lost.

She climbed to her feet, cradling her Nikon F protectively. The camera was the favorite of photo journalists and she never had the guts to ask her older brother where he got it. It cost an arm and a leg and he never, as far as she knew, held a job, unless you counted stealing hubcaps.

Grace flicked her long hair over her shoulders, but it still stuck to her skin. She pulled a ribbon out of her pocket and twisted it up into a messy ponytail. It hadn't been so long ago that she'd kept it in pigtails. Sometimes, she missed having it out of the way, but that hairstyle was so childish.

It looked like it was going to be a crisp, cold fall until the heat wave struck nearly a week ago – the day Johnny Cade and Ponyboy Curtis disappeared and that Soc was found dead in the park. She didn't believe the rumors surrounding the kid's death – that Johnny killed him. Grace knew Johnny a little bit, since he ran with her brother's gang, and she would have sworn he wasn't capable of killing anyone. He looked scary, but if anyone spent an afternoon around him, they would see he was shy and quiet.

If she was going to pick any of her brother's friends she would have thought capable of killing, it'd be Dallas Winston or Steve Randle. Even when they were motionless, the two boys sent out an angry vibe. Dallas made her especially nervous, the way his eyes darted all over the room, like he was casing it or looking for an escape route.

It turned out the rumors were true, and Johnny was back in town – this time with a broken back and burned nearly to death. Pony was okay and so was Dallas, who had helped the two younger boys hide out. Dallas' survival didn't surprise Grace. Dally was a human cockroach, he'd probably survive a nuclear war.

Grace's long legs ate up the blocks between the neighborhood market and the cramped and cluttered rowhouse she shared with her mother and brother. Her dad was so long gone, she didn't remember him, but her brother did. Grace was careful not to mention their father around him; a reminder of the old man was enough to put her normally cheerful brother into a sullen funk.

She climbed the steps, opening the door quietly and slipping into the living room. She rolled her eyes when she found her brother passed out on the couch, snoring loudly, his mouth hanging open, still completely dressed, his muddy boots propped on the coffee table. Their mother was going to give him holy hell if she caught him, but there was a good chance she wouldn't, since she'd worked midnight last night.

Grace crept upstairs into her room and shucked off the jeans she'd filched from her brother's closet. They were too small for him, anyway, and, if he kept drinking his breakfasts, he'd have a beer gut so big he wouldn't fit into _any_ of his jeans. She tossed them, and the cambrey workshirt that had belonged to her father, under her mattress. Her mother would have kittens if she knew Grace had them.

She tip-toed back down the stairs to find him still snoring away. It sounded like a lumber mill going full blast. Grace was a little relieved. He hadn't slept well all week.

Grace poked him. "Hey, sleepyhead, it's seven-thirty. Get up."

"Whaaat?" he blinked. "You've got to be shittin' me, Gracie. Seven-thirty in the morning?"

"Yeah, hey, don't do that!" She poked him again as he rolled onto his side, groping for a throw pillow. "You told me to wake you up, remember? Ponyboy's back! You said you wanted to go see him."

He sat up again, blinking and rubbing his face, then yawned and stretched, his leather jacket creaking. "You had to get me up this early?" He looked at her reproachfully.

"You said, and I quote, 'Get me up when you get up, Little Bit,' and I've been up for more than an hour and a half." She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Goddamn morning people," Two-Bit muttered, heading upstairs, hopefully toward the shower. He sure needed one. A shave, too; Grace didn't think he'd shaved all week.

"Yeah, yeah. You wouldn't be so tired if you'd slept this week, like I told you to. You never listen to me."

"When you start sayin' something worth hearin' is when I'll start paying attention," Two-Bit shouted from upstairs.

"Keep it down, you're gonna wake mom up," Grace shouted back.

She tossed the paper on the coffee table, where Two-Bit would be sure to see it. She smiled and tapped the headline just under the masthead: "'Delinquent' Youths Turn Heroes After Daring Fire Rescue."

"Those crazy sonuvaguns," Grace said, humming to herself as she began to pick up the fallout from Two-Bit's bender the previous night.

xxxxx

She sat at the kitchen table, building a house of cards, when Two-Bit came back downstairs, his hair heavily greased and slicked back. She made a face at him.

"Why do you even bother washing it? It looks like crap after you put all that gunk in it anyway."

"So says the girl who's dating the greasiest kid on the block." Two-Bit puffed his cheeks out, miming blowing down her fragile construction.

"Very funny."

Grace's boyfriend, Ray Roth, was the hottest guy on the North Side, and it wasn't just because he had gorgeous chiseled cheekbones, soulful brown eyes and a full mouth. Ray was confident and tough. He could take on just about anybody and come out on top, with the exception of Dallas Winston or maybe Tim Shepard. Ray was in Tim's gang, and Grace knew her mother would be madder than a wet hen if she found out Grace was dating one of the Shepard gang.

Besides, half the girls on their street were crushing on him, and as far as Grace was concerned, that was good enough reason to hang on to him. Of course, there was Sodapop Curtis, but he was too good looking – almost a breathing work of art, something you wouldn't dare touch, for fear of breaking it. Sodapop was in love with Sandy Martin, anyway.

She balanced a card on the stack. "Why are you always picking on Ray?"

"Because he isn't good enough for my baby sister." Two-Bit sauntered into the living room. "Hey, what's this?" He picked up the paper.

"I know you can't read or nothin', Two-Bit, but that there's a newspaper. You know, keeps you up on all the current events and social happenings." Grace put another card on the tower, which was already five levels high. It trembled, but didn't fall.

"Real cute, Little Bit." He folded the paper up and stuck it down the small of his back. "You be a good little girl now, 'cause I'm going over to the Curtises an' probably to see Johnny. Then there's the big rumble tonight. My dance card is full and I don't have no time to chase after you."

"Like you chase after me any other time, Two-Bit. Why don't you get lost?"

"Your concern is touching." Two-bit bowed with over-the-top flourish.

Grace gave him an upraised middle finger.

"That's not lady-like at all, not one bit. Better not let Mom see you actin' like a wild heathen. She's still counting her lucky stars that you finally grew outta being a tomboy." Two-Bit grinned and waltzed out the front door, slamming it so hard Grace's card house fell down, scattering cards everywhere.

Watching a card seesawing down to the floor, Grace cursed.

xxxxx

The rest of the morning went quickly. Grace picked up the playing cards and put some coffee on for her mom, whose coffee was a medical necessity following a midnight shift. She swept up the mud Two-Bit had tracked in and wiped off the coffee table.

Once her mother was up, Grace took off. She felt a tiny bit guilty she didn't stay and help her mom with the housework, but assuaged it with the knowledge that Two-Bit didn't help either. She shouldn't have to do all the chores, just because she was a girl.

Besides, ever since Grace started noticing boys, she and her mom didn't exactly get on real well. Her mom never seemed to like any of the boys Grace brought home and once accused her of changing boyfriends more often than her underwear. She'd been seeing Ray for two months and they were still going strong, although Grace hadn't brought him home. Her mom would just hate Ray; he had North Side written all over him. You'd think since her own son was the biggest hoodlum on the block, she wouldn't be so judgmental.

She reached the Mathisons' house by mid-morning. Lorraine Mathison had been seated next to Grace by virtue of alphabetical order in the first grade, and the two girls had been inseparable ever since. The Mathisons weren't rich, but they lived in a nice neighborhood and Lori always had plenty of spending money and was generous about treating Grace. Not only that, but Lori's parents had the good sense to keep busy with the Jaycees and the school board, among other stuff, and out of Lorraine's hair.

As suspected, Lori's parents were off at some social event where a bunch of respectable middle-class and upright citizens sat around, eating appetizers and patting themselves on the back for being so involved in the community. Or whatever it was that people who had plenty of extra money and time did.

Grace stretched out on the floor of Lori's room, blessing air conditioning and wishing the Mathews house had more in the way of air conditioning than a few rickety fans.

"So . . . did you ask him about me?" Lorraine's pretty blue eyes sparkled with anxiety.

"Who?" Grace paged through Seventeen magazine.

"You know - Steve Randle. Oh my goodness, he is so . . . complicated."

Grace rolled her eyes. Lorraine met Steve at Grace's house over the past summer and hadn't shut up about him since.

"The only complicated thing about Steve is his hair. And, no, I didn't ask him about you."

Lorraine bit her lip. "Please, Grace, you've got to. Steve's so . . ."

"Hot-tempered? Short-fused? Headed to the reformatory?" Grace flipped the page to an article about culottes.

"Intense, I was going to say." Lorraine sighed like a love-lorn puppy. "Your brother's good friends with him, isn't he? Ask Two-Bit if he ever mentions me."

"Yeah, let Two-Bit know you've got a crush on somebody. Really smart, Lori. Remember when I had that crush on Sodapop Curtis in the seventh grade?"

Lorraine went pale.

"Yeah, Lorraine, not a good idea."

"There's got to be something you can do." Lorraine sat at her vanity, which Grace secretly envied, brushing her long, pin-straight blonde hair. Lori's hair was true blonde, a shimmering, shining bleached wheat color. Lorraine put the brush down and turned toward Grace with an appealing look.

"What I can do is give you some advice. Stay away from Steve Randle. He's bad news," Grace said.

"He's just misunderstood."

"What's there not to understand? He's a hood. If you want to go slumming, you could at least find somebody better lookin'."

"I'm not slumming, Grace." Lori jumped up and started pacing. "How could you say that? You know I don't care about that sort of stuff. Steve is my soul mate, and you won't even help me!"

Grace thought about arguing, but she didn't feel like getting up off the nice, cold carpet. It was so hot outside, the heat and humidity wrapped around her like a clammy fist every time she stepped outside. Besides, she was still tired from the walk.

"Alright already, I'll help you. What am I supposed to do, though?"

"Just mention me around him and see if he acts interested."

"Real subtle, Lorraine." Grace tossed the magazine aside. "You wanna paint each other's nails?" Lori had a new color nail polish every other week.

"Let's go down to your house," Lori suggested. "Maybe Steve'll be around."

Grace sat up, trying to think of a reason to stay inside, away from the stifling heat.

"I don't think he will. He's probably either at the Curtises' house or over at the hospital, visitin' Johnny Cade. He don't spend too much time at my house."

"Johnny Cade?" Lorraine's eyes got wide and gleamed with avarice. "Isn't he the one who killed that boy, Bobby Sheldon?" She leaned forward eagerly. "His mother and mine are in the women's club together."

"Yeah, but he was hurt real bad last night, trying to save some little kids. He's in the hospital."

"Let's go visit him."

"Lori," Grace almost screamed. "We can't." Her jaw was nearly on her chest.

"Oh, okay," Lorraine grumbled. "It was just an idea. Really."

"I am not hanging out in one of Two-Bit's friend's hospital room on the off chance you'll be able to leer at Steve."

"I don't leer." Lori sniffed. "It's so unrefined." She started giggling.

"What's so funny?"

"You leer at Ray."

"No, I don't." Grace threw a pillow at her.

"Yes, you do."

"Well, I can – he's my boyfriend," Grace grumped.

"C'mon, let's go over your house and I'll bring my new nail polish, 'kay?"

"Oh, alright." Grace peeled herself off the floor, already mourning the air conditioning.

"I'll bring my copies of Tiger Beat and we can make collages. I'll stay the night."

"Why do you always wanna stay at my house?"

"I dunno." Lorraine shrugged. "At least your mom's around."

"Yeah," Grace snorted. "I know. I can't get rid of her."

"At least she's interested."

xxxxx

Grace was awakened by a loud bang on the front door. She sat upright in bed, searching out the clock on the bedside table. It was one o'clock in the morning. Her mom wouldn't be home for another hour or two at least. Unbidden, fear slithered down her spine.

Lori, sleeping in the camp bed beside hers, also sat up, startled by the noise.

"What was that? A burglar?" Lorraine whispered, her voice squeezed and tight with fear.

"If it is, he ain't from the neighborhood, 'cause if he was, he'd know we don't have anything to steal." Grace crawled out of bed and fetched a baseball bat from under it. Two-Bit gave it to her a long time ago, told her it was only to be used for protection, and, if he ever caught her fighting dirty with it, he'd skin her alive.

"I didn't know you played softball," Lorraine said.

"I don't. Two-Bit gave this to me. A home security system, he called it." Grace settled the bat on her shoulder. She was fiercely glad for what her mother called her "tom-boyish ways" - otherwise, she wouldn't swing it half so well. "Stay here."

"I can't stay here," Lori squealed. "What if he comes back here?"

"If he does, then it'll be because I'm in big trouble."

There was another bang from the living room and the two girls could hear the deep timbre of a man's voice.

"Oh God," Lori said.

"Come on, then." Grace was more than a little panicked herself. When she was in elementary school and the other girls had made fun of her hand-me-down clothes and missing daddy, she'd fought plenty. Her mother had hollered going down to the principal's office every week would give her gray hair. Somehow, she thought taking on a full-grown man would be a lot different.

The two girls tip-toed into the living room.

"When I give the signal, you turn on the light," Grace whispered to Lorraine.

Trembling, the other girl nodded.

Hefting the bat over her head, Grace crept toward a dark figure riffling through their refrigerator. Unfortunately for her, the light had either burnt out or broken six months ago and had never been fixed - you could count on Two-Bit for a lot of things, but handy-man stuff, not so much - so she could only see a vague hump. Her ears straining, she heard the low, musical clatter of glass bottles gently bumping each other.

"NOW!" Grace yelled.

"Ahhhh!" Lorraine yelped, throwing the switch and flooding the room with light, and . . .

"Holy shit!" Two-Bit cursed, clumsily ducking his sister's swing. Stumbling, he fell to the kitchen floor. He tried to get back up, but only made it to his knees. Even kneeling, he wove like a punch-drunk boxer.

"Two-Bit?"

"What?" Her brother tried to focus on her, but something was wrong with him – the side of his face was taped up and thick wads of gauze were wrapped clumsily around his right hand. Blood soaked the white T-shirt he wore under his trademark black leather jacket.

"Two-Bit!" Grace tried to help him to his feet. Despite Two-Bit's fighting prowess, his smart mouth made him a favorite target of the Socs, but she couldn't ever remember seeing him beat this badly.

After the third try, she realized not only was Two-Bit punch drunk, he also was literally drunk. Drunker than she'd ever seen him, and Grace had seen Two-bit so wasted he had trouble speaking coherently – something almost inconceivable for her fast-talking brother.

"Come help me get him to bed."

Lori's eyes showed too much white around the edges and her hands shook. She acted like she'd never seen anyone beat this badly – and she probably hadn't.

Lorraine hesitatingly approached and, visibly screwing up her courage, grabbed Two-Bit by one leather-clad arm.

The two girls managed to steer Two-Bit into his bedroom, although the three of them barked their shins on the furniture and bumped into walls more than a few times. Two-Bit collapsed into the unmade bed and Grace wrestled his jacket from him while Lorraine gingerly pulled his sneakers off.

Grace fumbled a clear quart bottle from the inside pocket of Two-Bit's jacket. She squinted at the label in the dim light. "Glory, Two-Bit, this is one hundred forty proof! You didn't drink this whole thing by yourself?" He couldn't have; no one could drink all of that and even crawl, let alone make his way home.

Two-Bit sat bolt up right as if he had to retch, and Grace grabbed the waste paper basket beside the bed and held it protectively in front of her, like a shield.

"I can see that you did. You swiped this, didn't you?"

Two-Bit nodded miserably – not that he cared about being caught shoplifting. He was a delicate shade of green, however, and Grace sighed, knowing it was going to be a long night.

"Why didja want to get drunk on top of gettin' the ever-living tar beat out of you?"

"Seemed like a good idea . . . at the time . . ." He grabbed the bucket and was violently ill.

Grace stood well back from the bed; Two-Bit was her brother, but there were some times the sibling bond just wasn't enough.

Two-Bit laid back, groaning, and Grace decided it was safe to get close to him again. The smell was terrible, though, between the vomit, blood and boozy sweat.

"What the matter with you?" Grace asked her semi-conscious brother. "You scared me half to death. I almost hit one outta the park Two-Bit an' it was goin' to be your head." Grace crossed her arms and glared at him.

"Naw . . . aim worse'n your sense-a humor . . ."

"Enough about my sense of humor. Would you please tell me why you decided to give me an' Lori premature gray hair? We thought you were a burglar."

"We beat the Socs." Two-Bit grabbed her wrist and squeezed so tightly she yipped with pain. He looked at her, and for the first time that evening, he was completely focused. "Ran 'em right out of the neighborhood."

Grace knew about the rumble. Everyone was aware of the escalated warfare between the South Side and the North Side since the Sheldon kid had been greased. Ray was supposed to be in the battle royale tonight, too. He looked forward to it with a fixated eagerness that gave her shivers, and not the good kind, either.

"What about Steve?" Lorraine asked.

Grace gave her a quelling look; she didn't want Two-Bit picking up on Lori's crush. He'd tease her something awful, and even worse, might tell Steve. If Steve was mean to Lori, Grace would have to kill him.

"Three busted ribs . . . ol' Steve-o isn't feeling too good . . . neither am I . . .none of us are tonight . . ." Two-Bit shook his head like he was trying to shake something right out of it.

Lorraine's eyes welled up with tears; Grace waved her back and the other girl left the room.

Two-Bit didn't notice, since he was vomiting in the waste basket again. Grace was having trouble not being sick herself. She hated to watch people puke.

A few moments later, Lorraine came back into the room and handed Grace a wet rag. Lori's eyes were red, and Grace gave her hand a quick squeeze, before sitting down beside her brother and mopping his flushed face with the cool rag.

"Lori, why don't you . . ." Grace trailed off, seeing Loraine's miserable face. She knew her best friend wouldn't be able to sleep, since she was so worried about Steve. "Come help me?"

Lorraine sat beside her and Grace gave her an awkward one-armed hug. Seeing Lori's red-rimmed eyes reminded her . . .

"Hey, Two-bit, is Ray okay?"

"Ray . . . ?" Two-bit seemed confused. "He's alright . . . it's Johnny an' Dallas that're dead . . . goddamn fuzz, took my switch . . ." He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, putting his hands over his eyes, as if to stop himself from seeing something.

Grace had a feeling he was seeing it anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton & not Ding-Dong Daddy of the D-car Line by Cherry Poppin Daddies.

In Which Grace Gets Scolded

xxxxx

_". . . lonely women flocked to him and he loved them all . . . "_

Grace straddled Ray's hips as he laid flat on his back in the middle of her bed, admiring his black Irish good looks. The contrast of his dark hair and eyes and black tee-shirt against the white sheets was striking. Poised above his lean, taut frame, just looking at him made Grace's breath catch.

His hands rested just above her knees, that forbidden territory above the hem of her skirt, his thumbs making lazy circles against her skin and sending electric shocks that were frying her brain.

Thank God her mom took as many extra shifts as she could to support the three of them. She didn't know how she'd get away with this if her lazy brother actually showed some initative, graduated and got a job, so their mother could spend more time at home. Thank God for Two-Bit.

Ray was looking up at her, and Grace was surprised that the curtains hadn't caught fire under his smoldering gaze. He grabbed her thighs, yanking her down on top of him. She didn't mind him being forceful, but if he bruised her, she'd have a hell of a time explaining it.

"Cut it out, Ray," she said, acutely aware of how happy he was to have her that close.

Instead of letting her go, he rolled them over so that she was beneath him. She wrapped her arms around Ray's neck, stroking his nape. He leaned down and kissed her hard, catching a handful of her hair.

"Well, now, what do we have here?" It was Two-Bit and he sounded obscenely cheerful.

"Get out of my room, Two-Bit."

"I don't think I can do that, now," Two-Bit said, and although Grace couldn't see him, she would swear that he was grinning.

"Goddamn you, Two-Bit." She threw a pillow in the general direction of the door, then, pushing Raymond away, sat up. She hadn't come anywhere near hitting him, and he _was_ grinning.

"Here I am, just tryin' to preserve my baby sister's honor, an' you're cussing at me." Two-Bit shook his head and took a swig from the dark brown glass bottle in his hand.

"She's got honor to preserve?" Ray got up and grabbed his leather jacket from the end of the bed, shrugging it on.

"Shut up, Roth, before I beat your head in," Two-Bit said.

"Real nice, Two-Bit," Grace said. "It's a wonder I have a boyfriend at all."

"Take off, Roth." Two-Bit gave him a cold stare.

Ray walked out, deliberately hitting Two-Bit's shoulder with his own as he walked out.

Grace got up to follow him, but Two-Bit grabbed her wrist. "You're staying here, kid. We got stuff to talk about."

"Yeah, we do." Grace tossed her hair. "You have really bad timing. You have heard of knocking, right?"

"You'd been knocked up if I'd bothered with knocking. I think my timing was pretty damn good. You wanna end up like half the girls in the neighborhood – pregnant before you're out of high school?" He reached up with his free hand and massaged his temple.

"What's the matter?"

"You give me a headache."

"Funny." Grace frowned at him.

"I really ain't feelin' too hot," Two-Bit said. "Maybe I'll go lay down an' catch up on my beauty sleep."

"Is that what you've been doing all week? You don't look any handsomer."

Grace squashed a twinge of worry. Two-Bit had slept a lot this past week. After Johnny's and Dally's funerals, he'd slept twenty hours straight. Grace had tiptoed into his room a couple of times to check and make sure he was still breathing.

"You got a smart mouth, Little Bit."

"Shoot, I learned from the best."

"Your flattery won't get you off the hook. I don't want you to be spending any more private time with Roth, you dig?"

"How are you gonna stop me?"

"I'll beat the shit out of him if I catch you. I mean it." He looked her straight in the eye, and she saw he was serious. If he caught the two of them alone together, someone was going to get hurt.

"I think you've been hanging out with Shepard too much," Grace complained.

"You've been spending too much time with at least one of the Shepard boys."

Two-Bit rubbed his eyes before taking another drink. Grace could smell the yeasty aroma of beer all the way across the room. This couldn't be the first he'd had.

"You okay?" Grace felt that little niggle of worry again and crushed it. She was being silly; Two-Bit could handle just about anything and what he couldn't, he just ignored.

"I'll be alright. I'm just comin' down with something."

"All the drinkin' you've been doing can't help. Why don't you lay off the sauce an' get some sleep?"

"Great minds think alike." Two-bit gave her a mock salute, then ambled out the door.

xxxxx

"I know he's a pain in the ass, but he's my brother. I'm worried something's wrong with him."

Grace and Lorraine were headed for the DX station on the pretense of buying a soda, although the neighborhood grocery was closer and it was so damn cold Grace didn't want a soda anyway.

Grace shivered; ever since the night Dallas and Johnny died, it had been freezing. The muggy heat of the Indian summer was only a memory now. She hugged her jacket close to herself, but the thin material gave no comfort.

"He's probably just sick, like he said."

Lorraine patted her shoulder comfortingly. She was wearing a sharp new navy peacoat that set off her eyes and complimented her hair. Lori always looked pulled together. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and Grace knew Lori had taken extra precautions with her appearance today.

"I dunno. I mean he's been laying around a lot lately. Two-Bit's always been kinda lazy, but it was more the sitting-on-the-couch-watching-television-and-drinking-beer sort of lazy, not the hiding-in-bed-with-the-covers-over-his head lazy."

"Sounds like you when you're fighting with Ray."

"We haven't argued in almost three days now."

"A record," Lorraine said, laughing.

"Only 'cause I haven't caught him doing anything wrong."

"I think you like to argue with him," Lori said, checking her makeup with a compact mirror. "I will say that he's extremely easy on the eyes. _Extremely_. But he's got all the personality of a ham sandwich." She giggled. "Honestly, I don't even know how you _manage_ to have a fight with him."

"It's somethin' to do. I'd rather do anything at all to keep from being bored." Grace shrugged.

"Do you think Steve'll be at the DX?" Lorraine's eyes were sparkling with excitement.

"Probably – he's there most afternoons. You know he's got a girlfriend? Evie. She's Raymond's cousin."

"What's with her, anyway?" Lori grimaced. "She's so skinny, she looks like a boy. I'm much prettier."

"You are prettier, but Steve really likes her. Two-Bit said something smart about her once an' Steve was all over him like a cheap suit." She paused. "I gotta tell you – I don't like him very much."

"Don't worry," Lorraine said, grinning. "Once we start dating, I'll make him be nice to you and Two-Bit. He won't be dating this Evie for too much longer if I have anything to do with it." She flipped her hair.

"I'd think twice about trying to steal Evie's boyfriend – especially if you're attached to breathing."

"That's just it – I can't breathe when I'm around him," Lori exclaimed, giggling.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you when Evie snatches you bald and scratches your eyes out. She's mean, and she fights dirty."

Lorraine gave Grace a sideways glance.

"It isn't like you to be this serious. You're really worried, aren't you?"

Grace looked down at her feet and twirled a piece of hair around a forefinger. "No, not really, a little concerned, I guess. It's just that . . ."

Grace ran into something hard and unyielding and bounced off, hitting the ground. The cold crept up her bare legs, making her shudder.

"Hey!" She looked up, angry . . . and up and up into the cool blue eyes of Darry Curtis, who bore the fading signs of a black eye.

"Darry," she said, surprised. She immediately wished she didn't sound like such a stupid little kid.

"You should look where you're going, Grace. You'll spend less time on the ground that way." He held a hand out to her and she took it so he could pull her up. His hand was three times the size of hers. "Does Two-Bit know you're out here by yourselves?"

"Two-Bit's taking a nap," she admitted.

"Two-Bit's taking a nap?" It was Darry's turn to be surprised.

It was weird. Two-Bit was always on the move, always full of nervous energy.

"Yeah," she bit her lip. She wanted to ask Darry if he'd noticed anything weird about her brother in the past few days, but she'd half convinced herself that there wasn't anything wrong.

"Is he sick?" Darry asked.

"I think so . . . have you noticed him acting, I dunno, sick the past few days?"

"We've all been pretty weirded out and acting strangely. I'm pretty worried about Ponyboy, actually. He's taking what happened to Dally and Johnny real hard. It's . . . " He paused and ran the heel of his hand across his eyes. "Well, never mind."

"Yeah . . ." Grace kicked at a nearby rock.

"If I notice anything, I'll let you know," Darry said kindly.

"Thanks, Darry," she said, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. She'd die before she bawled like a baby in front of one of the Curtis brothers.

"You girls be careful – the Socs are supposed to stay on the South Side now, but there's no reason to think they'll actually abide by the agreement. And Grace, don't worry about Two-Bit. He'll shake it off; he always does."

Grace smiled and thanked him and Darry continued down the street, walking quickly and with purpose.

A seed of doubt had taken root in her hidden heart.

xxxxx

Note: I'm more than a little surprised and a lot grateful anyone remembered me. Thanks much for the criticism and for the praise. It's appreciated. New stuff, old stuff, we'll see what we can get into, shall we?


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders or "Drunk" by Tweet.

Author's note: Someone ask what a jaycee was, and it's the Junior Chamber of Commerce, a business networking/community service organization for young professionals.

A couple of people also have asked that I continue with Ain't You Ashamed?, but, if you've read it, I think you'll understand that Christine Weston is doing everything in her power - which is quite considerable - to avoid greasers in general and Sodapop in particular. However, if you'd like to look in on what she's got her claws in now, you could read Marsonfire's A Night to Remember, where she is being stymied by Tim Shepard.

Speaking of A Night to Remember, I'm working on a companion short story. Attempting to, anyway. I'm having fun with it, but it's pretty much complete twaddle.

In Which TwoBit is Discussed

xxxxx

_". . . 'cause I'd rather be drunk and drive away from here/than to be sober, so sober, yeah . . ."_

Grace knocked on the front door of the Curtis house, annoyed beyond belief.

She'd lost Two-Bit.

He'd snuck out of the house while she was occupied with fighting with Ray over the phone. Ray was a goddamn psychopath, accusing her of cheating on him – which was a real laugh, since Grace knew he was flirting with every girl in the neighborhood thirteen and older. Thinking about it still pissed her off and she was frowning when Sodapop opened the door.

"Do you always answer the door half-dressed." She cocked an eyebrow at him.

Soda was wearing a pair of jeans that had seen better days and nothing else. He was lean and his skin was kissed with gold from being out in the sun without a shirt. Three years ago, her tongue would be hanging halfway down to her navel, but now she only gave him a quizzical expression.

"Nope," said Soda. "I usually don't answer it at all. Nobody bothers knocking."

"Is Two-Bit here?"

"No. I haven't seen him all day." Soda brightened suddenly and peered over her shoulder expectantly.

Grace turned around and all she saw was the mailman – who was a nice old guy, but certainly not the first person she'd guess would put that sunny, happy expression on Soda's face.

"Just a minute, Gracie." He slid past her and trotted down the stairs.

Grace stared after him, confused. She needed to find Two-Bit. God alone knew what he would get up to, as drunk as he was. Even when he was completely sober, he was a handful, but the drunker he was, the more difficult he was to handle, even for their mother, who had a long and distinguished career handling drunks.

In the past week and a half, he'd been drinking more and more. Sure, Two-Bit had always drank a lot, but now, if he wasn't sleeping, he was drinking. He'd almost set the kitchen on fire two days ago. Grace had been watching him closely ever since, while telling herself it was only temporary. Just until he got over . . . things.

"Okay, thanks," Soda said, breaking her train of thought and he came back up the stairs, downcast.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah." Soda smiled. It seemed a little forced, but Grace had her hands full with her brother and her boyfriend, so she let it slide.

"You haven't seen Two-Bit?"

"No, but I'll check and see if anyone else has. C'mon in."

Grace followed him into the house. Steve was laying on the sofa with the paper draped over his lap. He was asleep.

"Hey, Steve," Soda said, poking him awake.

"Shoot, Soda, watch the ribs," Steve said grumpily.

"You seen Two-Bit?"

"You woke me up for that?"

"Yeah."

"No, I haven't seen him, damn it. Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Hey, Steve," Grace said. She waved at him and he looked at her like she was a moron. She didn't blame him; they weren't friends.

"Hey . . ." Steve said, still giving her a dubious look.

"I was looking for Two-Bit . . . and Lorraine. Have you seen Lorraine lately?"

Grace felt her cheeks heating up, but Lori would kill her if she found out she talked to Steve and hadn't mentioned her. Grace knew it was dumb, but she hadn't expected Steve - although he just about lived at the Curtis house - and she hadn't planned out how to bring it up naturally. She wished Lori would just date one of the hundred or so middle class boys who had a crush on her.

"I didn't know you were looking for Lorraine," Soda said, concerned. "Did Two-Bit and Lorraine run off together or something?"

"Who the hell is Lorraine?" Steve grumbled, buttoning up his DX shirt and glancing at his watch.

"Little thing, 'bout this high," Soda held a hand just below shoulder level. "Blonde hair, blue eyes? Pretty as all get out."

Steve just shook his head, looking mystified.

"You met her at my house over the summer," Grace reminded him. Lorraine was going to be crushed.

"Don't ring any bells for me," said Steve.

"Hey, Ponyboy," Soda yelled toward the back of the house.

"What?" Pony's voice came drifting back.

"Seen Two-Bit or Lorraine?"

"No."

Darry came out of the kitchen.

"What's all the shouting?"

"We're looking for Two-Bit and Lorraine," Soda explained.

"Well, they ain't here. Hey, Grace." Darry nodded to her. "And you aren't going to be part of the search party, little man, because you're going to be late for work. I"ll help Grace – I've got half an hour," he said to Soda.

"Alright then," Soda said, shrugging on his DX shirt and buttoning it quickly. He tipped Grace a wink. "You're in good hands."

"Yeah," Steve said. "Superman'll come to your rescue."

The two boys strolled out the door, Steve carefully combing his hair as he walked shoulder to shoulder with Sodapop. Grace hoped the unobservant jerk would fall down the stairs.

"You look cold, Grace," Darry said. "You want to have a cup of coffee and warm up?"

"Sure," she said, following him into the kitchen and still trying to figure out where the hell Two-Bit had gone.

"You aren't looking for Lorraine, are you?"

Grace looked at him, surprised.

"How do you know?"

"You wouldn't be looking for her here. Besides, both of them missing would be a lot of bad luck. I think we've had our share of bad luck around here." Darry picked the tin coffee pot up off the stove and poured steaming cupfuls of coffee in to a pair of heavy ceramic mugs.

"So, what are you really doing?"

"I am looking for Two-Bit . . . " She admitted as he thunked down one of the mugs in front of her and pushed the sugar bowl toward her.

"You've never come hunting up Two-Bit like this. What's going on?" Darry leaned against the sink, sipping his black coffee.

His black eye was gone, and with out it, he didn't fit in so well. Sure, he wore Carhartt and jeans, and his hands were rough and scarred from work, but there was something about Darry that made him stand out. It wasn't just that he kept his hair short and clean, it was more that Darry held himself apart.

Grace traced a scratch in the table with a finger. She felt silly confiding in Darry that she thought Two-Bit was drinking and lazing around too much. He'd be nice about it, it was Darry, after all . . . but the idea of Keith Mathews, notorious for his excesses in laziness and drunkenness, being too drunk and sleeping too much – it was making mountains out of molehills. Wasn't it?

"Is something wrong?" His tone was gentle.

Grace picked at a cuticle.

"Grace?"

She shifted in her seat, poured some sugar into her coffee and stirred.

"I know we aren't close, Grace, but you can talk to me."

Funny, but she'd never noticed his eyes were such a light blue; they were unusual. Pretty, too, although noticing Darry Curtis had pretty eyes was a strange thing to be thinking just now.

Her mind was just trying to seize on any distraction available, so she could stop worrying about Two-Bit for a minute. Thinking about Darry Curtis' perfectly blue eyes_ was _nicer than wondering if her brother was in a hospital somewhere.

"I'm worried about Two-Bit. He's drinking too much and when he's not drunk, he's sleeping. Sometimes he's sleeping for twenty hours at a time. Even worse, he ain't even crackin' jokes anymore. I'm scared something is wrong with him. He ain't acting like Two-Bit."

The words all came out in a breathless, jumbled rush. Talking to Lori about it was one thing and talking to someone else who knew Two-Bit well – and might be able to confirm her suspicions – was another.

"It's probably just me being silly." Grace bit her lip.

"Grace, Ponyboy has been acting different, too – ever since . . . about a month ago." Darry stared seriously at her over the rim of his coffee cup.

Grace let out a long, shaky breath.

"I've been so worried. He almost burnt down the house earlier this week. Two-Bit's always been a bit scatterbrained, but the way he's been forgettin' stuff lately . . ." She shook her head. "He didn't even remember Soda's seventeenth until two days after it'd passed, an' you know how much he loves parties. He doesn't seem to have enthusiasm for much of anything."

"Ponyboy's been forgetting things, too. The other day, he came home without his shoes."

She remembered the jolt of adrenline that coursed through her when she'd come into the kitchen to see the flames dancing over the gas burners on the stove. When she'd asked Two-Bit about it, he'd just looked at her dumbly and said, "I forgot."

"He forgets to do his homework and I can't even talk to him about it because he accuses me of getting on his back. We were getting along – finally. Then he just shut down. He sits at the dinner table an' Soda and I have conversations around him."

"Do you think it has anything to do with . . . what happened?" Grace looked at him, and although she was relieved Darry took her concerns seriously, she also was worried about Ponyboy. She wondered if he drug himself through each day with that blank, exhausted look Two-Bit had.

"It might," Darry said. "Pony's just quit. It's like he's living in a vacuum. He's all by himself and he won't let me in; he says all I do is nag him."

Darry sighed with frustration and Grace was startled he'd shared so much. Darry was four years older – and a guy – and they had never been close. However, now they had a common concern.

"Yeah, Two-Bit's not talking to anyone. He spends most of the day sittin' in front of the television, drinking. Do you thing they're going to be okay?" Grace asked. "I mean, it's not like they're actually sick or anything . . . "

"Give them time, Grace," Darry said. "Time to get over . . . what happened."


	4. Chapter 4

In Which Grace is Rescued

Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders or "Hurt" by Nine Inch Nails.

xxxxx

_". . . I will let you down/I will make you hurt . . ."_

"Goddamn you, Ray," she screamed, hurling a pot at his head. "You been cheatin' on me again!"

He ducked the pot, his face darkening with anger.

"Fuck you, Grace! If you didn't nag me constantly, I wouldn't hafta chase other girls." He dodged a metal strainer and a cake pan.

"If I didn't nag you, you'd be chasing other girls all day," she retorted, slinging a cast iron pan at him. Unfortunately, the heavy cookware fell far short.

"Shut up, Grace," he snarled.

She sneered back at him, panting slightly from her exertions. She was so angry, she saw red flashes and her eyeballs were throbbing with the beat of her heart. They had never fought like this before, but she wasn't afraid. Even if Ray were capable of hurting here - which he wasn't - Two-Bit would break him in half if Ray laid a finger on Grace.

She swept a whisp of hair back, still glaring at him as he stalked her, his dark brown eyes blazing with anger. Grace circled around, putting the table between the two of them. She wasn't about to let him catch her. She wasn't done being mad at him yet.

"Get over here, Grace, or I'll beat you, I swear to God."

She laughed, wild and jagged like broken glass. "You beat me and my brother'll kill you, Ray."

She circled to the left as Ray moved to the right, careful to keep the bulk of the table between them. He faked to the left and she fell for it, jumping to the right. He snatched her by the wrist and pulled her to him, like a fish on the end of a line.

"Your brother ain't going to do shit." He grabbed her hair and yanked it. "He ain't outta his cups as long as it takes to get drunk again, waking up."

"Don't you say that about him!" She slapped him hard across his left cheek, trembling with fury, her lips peeled back in a snarl. It was one thing to play their little games, play-act they were mad and hated each other. It was another thing to run down her brother.

"You're a real bitch, Grace." He shook her.

"What's going on here?" A deep, masculine voice said from behind Grace.

Ray froze, looking over her left shoulder.

"Let go of her," the voice, which Grace now recognized as Darry, commanded.

She could almost see the cogs turning in Ray's head: Darry Curtis was one of the biggest, toughest guys in the neighborhood, but he rarely fought if he could help it. Grace thought this was more because there really wasn't a whole lot of people who could match up with him, not any real reluctance to fight.

Ray wasn't above fighting dirty - in fact, he specialized in it. He also was meaner than cat-dirt and fought just about every day, and his scarred, scabbed knuckles bore evidence of it.

Grace went very still. She didn't want them to fight, because, most importantly, they might break something, and that would have to be explained to Dot. She didn't want anything to happen to Ray for obvious reasons, and Two-Bit would be madder than a hen in a thunderstorm if Darry was hurt protecting her.

Ray pulled a switch from his back pocket, and Grace forgot to breathe. Bare knuckled brawling was nothing; all the boys did it. Breaking a nose or springing some ribs were the worst that it came to, in most cases, and, in almost all of them, the fight was broken up before any real damage was done.

But pull a knife, and someone could get hurt. Someone might die, like the Sheldon kid did. And Johnny hadn't even really been trying to hurt him, while Ray was a country mile more mean than Johnny was on his worst day.

Ray flicked the switch open with a fluid, practiced gesture. "This ain't any of your business, Curtis. Get the hell outta here or you're gonna regret it."

"I'm making it my business." Darry took off his jacket and tossed it on to a chair. "What kind of lowlife beats on his girlfriend? And Grace, I know Two-Bit told you Roth was to stay away from the house, especially when no one else was home."

Grace bit her lip and avoid his eyes.

"You talk too much." Ray stepped forward.

"Quit being stupid, you two. When you end up bleeding on the floor, I'm gonna have to clean up the mess."

"Shut up, Grace. There's going to be plenty left over for you. Fuckin' tossing pots at me." Raymond struck out at Darry, the knife glittering wickedly in his hand.

Darry reared back, the knife barely missing his chest. He swept up one of the few pots Grace hadn't hurled at Ray. He hefted it, then swung at Ray.

Ray danced back, smiling confidently and tossing the knife from hand to hand. He snapped his head back to get his longish dark hair clear of his face.

"C'mon, Curtis, come and get it." His white smile flashed in the dim kitchen.

Darry didn't waste any time with taunts, but changed his grip on the pot so he held it two-handed. He swung viciously, grunting with the effort. There was a soft swoosh as the pot passed through the spot where Raymond's head had been only a second before.

Ray circled to the side, trying to find a blind spot where he could effectively strike.

"Stop it!" Grace fisted her hands in her hair; her scalp still ached where Ray had pulled her hair.

The two boys continued circling each other, making feints and narrowly avoiding each other's strikes.

Grace stood off to the side, stewing. They were paying her very little attention despite the fact they were fighting because of her. She tried to think of a good reason for having a dead Curtis in the house when Two-Bit came home, but couldn't formulate a believable story.

She was saved the trouble when Darry, abandoning Ray's torso and head as targets, whalloped him in the elbow of his knife arm. Ray's hand spasmed and the knife tumbled from his nerveless fingers. Darry promptly followed with an upper cut to the chin.

Raymond, still at a disadvantage because of his arm, gave Darry a painful stomp on the insole, followed by a knee to the crotch. Darry doubled over and Ray grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head up.

Two-Bit was going to be really, really mad. And she was going to have to clean up blood. A lot of it. She didn't even want to know what Dot would say if she found blood splattered on her cupboards.

Raymond started to piston his knee up as he pulled Darry's head down.

Grace hit Ray in the back of the head with a frying pan.

He staggered backwards and lifted a hand to his head, touching the wound in the back of his head. It came away bloody and he half-turned toward Grace, his expression disbelieving.

"Hey, Roth."

Ray swung back toward Darry, putting his fists up, and Darry, his sense of fair play satisfied when he had the full attention of his opponent, landed a cross punch to his mouth. Following with his left, Darry hit him in the temple and Raymond crumpled to the floor, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

Grace stared at her battered boyfriend for a moment; the boy who had just threatened to beat her and who had used her long hair as an impromptu leash.

"You've hurt him," Grace whispered, devastated by the sight of Raymond bloodied and bruised.

"He was going to beat you." Darry pulled his jacket on.

"No, he wasn't. He was just saying that to scare me. Besides, you didn't need to knock him unconscious." She flicked her hair over her shoulders.

"He'll be alright. You probably hurt him worse when you hit him in the head." Darry ran a hand through his hair and gave her an incredulous look.

"Well, he was going to smash your nose in."

"I've lived through worse." Darry shrugged.

"So you would have preferred I didn't hit him?" Grace was confused.

"I didn't say that . . ." Darry looked confused now, too.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't get hurt," Grace said. "I would have felt guilty. Plus, Two-Bit would have never stopped nagging me about it. What're you doing over here, anyway?"

"I came over to check on Two-Bit. I've only seen him once or twice since we found him wanderin' around downtown an' he just didn't seem right to me."

"I'm keeping as close an eye on him as I can, but any extra help is appreciated."

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"You're right about his drinking. The last few times I've seen him, he's been pickled an' then some. Somebody ought to talk to him about it."

Another silence.

"Is there somewhere to put him?" Darry motioned to Raymond.

"Yeah, we can lay him on the couch." She looked at his ruined mouth mournfully. Ray had a beautiful mouth. "Did you have to hit him in the mouth?"

Grace got Ray's legs and Darry his arms and they carried him into the living room. If Darry wasn't such a straight arrow, she would have suspected he accidently on purpose let Ray's head hit the frame on the way through the doorway.

xxxxx

Once Lori heard about the fight, she'd hurried over to comfort Grace and ooh and aw over the bruises on her shoulders. That finished, the two girls settled in for a nice long gossip while they waited for Ray to wake up, hopefully before Two-Bit came home and realized Grace hadn't listened to a word he said.

"You don't know what he's really like, Gracie. Ray is always so careful around you. He tries not to show you his mean side."

"He wasn't so careful today." Grace touched a bruised shoulder and winced. Ray had a temper, but his anger was only proof that he cared. If he didn't care so much, he wouldn't get so angry.

"It's even worse than that – believe me," said Lori. "He's cruel. There's something wrong with him."

All the other girls wanted Ray, so Grace was determined to hold on to him. He must be desirable if so many other girls wanted him. No matter how he ran around after the others, she knew he loved her. He had told her so more times than she could keep track.

Ray moaned and stirred restlessly, and Grace hurried over to his side. She brushed the hair back off Ray's forehead tenderly.

He groaned and his eyelids flickered wildly as he came back to consciousness.

"Ray, are you okay?"

"Grace . . ."

"Shhh." She patted his forehead with a damp cloth, feeling quite the Florence Nightingale. It would be more romantic if he had been hurt defending her honor or something noble along those lines, but he had been fighting over here, and that was exciting, too. "I taped you up. You'll be as good as new in a few weeks."

"Did you . . . hit me in the head with a pan?" He was trying to focus on her, but his brains had been scrambled pretty well by a frying pan to the head.

"Ray! Of course not!" She frowned at him.

His eyebrows came together as he struggled to remember. "I thought you did. I remember . . ."

"Well, you remember wrong!" Ray would kill her if he realized she was the one who hit him - or worse break-up with her and start going with Dawn King, who was the reason they'd been fighting in the first place.

Ray's brows were still knit together with confusion. "I coulda sworn . . ."

"Well, don't give yourself a headache thinkin' about it. I'm sick enough with worry for the both of us."


End file.
